Sure handy at times

I’ve commented before about getting into 3D printing, and the only major change made since the last mention was adding a resin printer to the mix, not too long after we moved to Walkabout Estates Plus – this was largely because before, The Girlfriend and I shared an office, and my desk wasn’t near a window and printing resin has a distinct odor, which I had no decent way to ventilate. Now with my own office where I can dedicate more space and put the desks where I want, I finally made my move on a resin printer.

[Exposition, skip ahead if you already know or don’t care: Resin printing is significantly different from FDM/filament printing. A vat with a clear bottom holds the ultra-violet sensitive liquid resin, and underneath sits a UV LED the same size as the vat. A build plate lowers into the vat until it sits a fraction of a millimeter above the bottom, enough for a thin layer of resin, and the LED illuminates long enough to harden the resin into a solid layer, usually about .05 millimeters thick, which is pretty fine. The build plate lifts enough to allow more liquid resin to flow underneath, descends again to compress this layer to the desired thickness, and the LED illuminates again – in this manner, it builds a model an entire layer at a time. Or really, as many models as you can cram onto the build plate, because the print job is timed by layers/height, not volume like FDM printers, so you might as well use the time wisely.]

Now there are two main uses for 3D printers. The first is knickknacks, miniatures for gaming, and so on. But the second is functional parts and even tools; I pretty much split my efforts between these, and it’s the latter we’ll talk about today.

Two days ago, in opening the blinds in the bedroom, there was a crack and suddenly not only would the blinds not open/rotate, one side was drooping noticeably. Pulling down the entire unit, I discovered that two of the three tilter drums inside had literally shattered, and I wasn’t going to simply restring the blinds.

shattered drums from CF-5 Lowes faux wood blinds
Examination of the parts that remained told me that I wasn’t going to glue those back together either, and in fact, the plastic used had aged badly, likely from exposure to sunlight for too long, and was more the consistency of dried frosting. Seriously.

illustration of terrible material used for CF-5 Lowes faux wood blind drums
That’s utter shit, and clearly the wrong kind of plastic to use in such situations – and I have no doubt the manufacturer knows this. Nor are replacement parts available, because I checked extensively.

But, 3D printing to the rescue! A search on Thingiverse.com turned up (once I determined the name/term that I should be searching under) this home-designed part by Motard0067, which is exactly what I was looking for. I elected to use resin for the finished product, because it prints very cleanly and is a lot more durable than filament, just this side of ceramic. ABS in a filament machine would probably work too, and has more flexibility.

Resin-printer replacement drum for CF-5 Lowes faux wood blinds, design by Motard 0067, found on Thingiverse.com
All three rotation drums were bad, so I did three resin drums, which are an absolute perfect fit, even threading on the rods snugly but not too tightly. A few minutes of playing around and the blinds were fixed, actually better than new.

new 3D printed drum installed in CF-5 Lowes faux wood blinds, perfect fit
The semi-clear bit on top is the locking tab from the original blinds, still intact and fitting properly in my printed parts – though I’m sure I could have found or designed replacements for those too.

I can’t count the number of times that I’ve fixed or improved items around the house, some of which could already be found on the popular 3D model sites, some of which I designed myself (and I’m certainly a novice at 3D design.) When the opportunity to print anything is there, you realize how often it can be a huge help.

I won’t recommend it to everyone – 3D printers can take a lot of tweaking to get the best prints, with a shit-ton of variables to account for, and if you’re not into troubleshooting or mucking about, you’ll hate it. Which is funny, because the basics are generally pretty easy, and most printers can be ready to operate within 20-60 minutes out of the box. But you can waste a couple of hours determining what temperature works best for what filament, and the setup, cleanup, and post-processing of resin prints is time-consuming and can be messy if you’re not meticulous.

But when you fix something that would otherwise have to be replaced (and I make it a point to try this for damn near everything,) well, what can I say? It pays for itself.

By the way, the long lens grip that I created many moons ago? It’s still in regular use, without even having to reprint it (despite the fact that it was created on my first, very basic printer,) and I consider it a huge advantage in wielding that lens.

author's design of telephoto lens grip

Nuh uh

waxing gibbous moon overexposed with lunar halo, Jupiter, and Capella
My attempts to finagle a clear sky and/or some nice Geminids meteors failed, but the haze did produce a nice, wide lunar halo, which nonetheless took a much longer exposure to bring out than the moon required, so the moon got blown out in the middle. This is at 18mm and just barely got the halo in the frame – I could have gone wider with another lens, but didn’t deem it worth the effort.

What else do we have here? The small bright spot to the lower left of the moon is Jupiter, while the star to the direct left, in the halo, is Capella. The streak to the right is likely an indication that I either need to clean my lens or there’s a small hair within capturing the internal reflections – it’s in all of the frames. What can just barely be made out is the faint refraction from the high-altitude ice crystals, meaning the halo is really a rainbow of sorts, known technically as a 22° halo. Naturally, I had to boost saturation by 200% to bring out the colors better.

oversaturated version of lunar halo
The color cast within the halo becomes very obvious now, while the blue end of the spectrum makes the barest appearance. But overall, not the night to chase meteors, though granted, in a few minutes it’ll be the 14th, so perhaps my luck will change then.

Earlier today, before the haze really started to develop, I caught a hint of another refractive phenomenon:

refraction spot within cirrus clouds or contrails
While it has the appearance of a sundog, it’s way too far from the sun for that, and was likely a tiny portion of a circumzenithal arc. As the clouds (or dispersing plane contrails, as I suspect they actually were) moved on in the high altitude winds, the arc vanished, so this was all I got. Excitement City, I know. But I got the hint that I might be getting some cooler pics soon, if I make the effort. We’ll see…

It just might work

Hmmm, Friday the 13th. The Geminids meteor shower peaks tonight. Now, my luck with meteor showers is uniformly bad, so much so that it’s a standing joke among, well, me, so I now consider this a regular state of affairs.

So, will the bad luck actually result in changing this? If I count on not seeing a damn thing, will the mystical daemons that assault people with trivial annoyances and the occasional assassination be fooled by this, and triumphantly, maliciously ruin my view of the stars with a bunch of streaks and perhaps even a spectacular bolide? I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?

The skies have been back and forth all week – they were quite clear last night, but it was cold enough and I had other projects that I wanted to complete (and did) rather than sit out on the deck and stare at the sky while freezing and watching the camera batteries die quickly (this is a trait of lithium-ion batteries; getting cold makes their power drops off a cliff suddenly, though it comes back up when they get warm again.) This afternoon, however, it’s hazing up rapidly and it’s hard to tell what the night sky will look like.

To a degree anyway, because the moon is going to be near-full and thus glaring out any meteors that are nearby – not the best of conditions even in the best of conditions. By all math, only about a week out of every month should be notably affected by the phase of the moon, given how long the phases last as well as the changing rise and set times, though far more than one out of four showers in the past couple of years has been affected by the moon, which likely indicates that they’re not randomly distributed throughout the year.

Anyway, I’m really hoping that the haze will continue throughout the night, illuminated by the moon and thus eradicating the chance of seeing 99% of the meteors that contact the atmosphere, of which I’m betting heavily there will be a ridiculously small number anyway. That would make me so happy.

Might have to get used to this

I was down in Walkabout Studios a short while ago…

[A brief explanation, because now’s the time to do it: the new house came with a finished basement room, partially below grade, that even has an outside door, and I immediately snagged this as my office/studio/lab/workshop/makerspace, because it’s largely sound isolated and has windows for ventilation and because I’m a guy and we go underground. I’d started out calling this, “Deep 13,” but no one was getting the reference and The Girlfriend said she couldn’t remember this anyway, so it’s mostly just the “office” and occasionally “the dungeon.”]

… and heard a faint, repeated noise at the back door. I finally went over there to check, and one of the leaves that got tracked in didn’t quite look like a leaf.

spring peeper Pseudacris crucifer that snuck into Walkabout Studios
The ‘X’ across the back marks this as a spring peeper (Pseudacris crucifer,) which should be expected, really, as they like warm, rainy nights in winter and spring, and it’s been raining like hell today. Not exactly sure how it got in, but I did leave the door cracked this afternoon when I stepped out for a little bit and it might have been then, in which case it’s been in here for hours. Or, since I’ve also found the occasional large wolf spider, there’s another ingress someplace. But it wasn’t going to be escorted back outside before it did brief penance as a model of course.

spring peeper Pseudacris crucifer with reflection within small aquarium
They have a wide variety of colors, and size-wise, they’re very similar to cricket frogs and chorus frogs, about 20mm in body length, but they’re also perhaps the most numerous, at least in conditions like this and especially this time of year (though I did find a juvenile American toad the other day too, about the same size, which is less than half of adult length for that species.)

And like most amphibians, they pause for short periods before choosing the next direction to leap in, which doesn’t ever seem to involve actually choosing a landing spot, so my photo session demanded recapturing my model twice before I finished up and re-introduced it to the great outdoors. I’ll see if I can snag some audio of their calls – I heard them last night, so maybe it’s still warm enough to get some samples tonight.

spring peeper Pseudacris crucifer preparing to leap from small aquarium
Even though we had our entry today, I have to note that this could also serve as a ‘Just Once’ candidate – kind of. I have one previous appearance of what could be a spring peeper, but back then it was going under the old scientific name of Hyla crucifer, so this is the only mention of a Pseudacris crucifer – or is that being too technical? Hey, it’s my blog, I’ll do what I want…

Just once, part 50

unknown mantis fly probably Mantispidae
This is one that I’m faintly frustrated at only having captured once. First featured 9 years ago but actually taken 14 years back, it looked to me like a cross between a lacewing and a praying mantis – which is largely what it is. It’s a member of the Mantispidae, or mantisflies, possibly a green mantisfly (Zeugomantispa minuta.) While the praying mantids that we’re all familiar with have wings as adults and can indeed fly, they aren’t very closely related at all; mantisflies are Order Neuroptera, while mantids are Order Mantodea. This means that the similarity in appearance in only coincidental, a case of convergent evolution – but boy, do they look similar. Except for the size, since my adult specimen here is somewhere in the vicinity of 10mm, while adult Chinese mantids get a lot closer to 80mm. Back in 2010 I wasn’t half as well set up to do detailed macro work as I am now, so naturally I’ve been wanting to tackle the same species again when I can do a better job, but I’ve never seen any sign of them since.

I might have missed an opportunity, though. While researching the various species, I stumbled upon a photo that looked quite familiar, almost identical in fact to something that I’d captured earlier – which may mean that I had an entire egg cluster hatch within easy reach and never knew that it was a target species. That year (2013,) however, was one that I was extraordinarily active with arthropod photography, so I feel reasonably comfortable that I was performing due diligence in watching for the adults – I doubt that I could have found one if I’d been more alerted to their presence. Tracking the newborns in their life cycle would have been virtually impossible, given that they were a mere millimeter in length when born and soon dispersed. Back then I was likely mistaken as to what they were, so even capturing a few and trying to keep them in a terrarium wouldn’t have been successful because I would probably have been trying feed them the wrong stuff – the larvae feed on spider eggs, and Bubble Yum has been discontinued for a while now.

[Actually, no it hasn’t – might have to go to the store later on today, get some nostalgia.]

Addendum

After my nostril pics of the red-shouldered hawk, The Girlfriend went out to do some shopping, scaring the two hawks off from the light pole when the car started (it’s not that loud, honest.) Upon her return, as she was unloading the groceries from the car, she caught motion over her left shoulder as something passed and crashed into the bush right alongside the front door. As she turned to look, a red-shouldered hawk rose from the bush, grasping something green (likely an anole) and flew past her to alight in the treeline on the edge of the property. None of this was more than 15 meters from her.

The temperature rose quite high today after a week of winter temperatures (for NC, anyway,) and the anoles were out immediately; apparently, they don’t go into hibernation here but just hole up when it’s cold, popping back out as soon as it’s pleasant again. This is in marked contrast to 200 kilometers west of here where we used to live, where the anoles completely vanished by this time and didn’t reappear until spring. Huh.

Later on, we were both out back along the pond edge and discussing things about the property when motion caught our eyes, and here comes another red-shouldered hawk. Same one? Can’t say for sure. This one made a beeline dead at us, passed just a few meters directly overhead, and came to rest on a branch above and behind us – there’s no way that it was unaware of our presence, nor could we see any reason for this particular flight path. Quite loudly, I asked the hawk, “You aren’t scared of anything, are you?” which did not garner a reply, yet didn’t scare it off, either.

But yeah, I think we’re getting the hint that this is a shared property, and they were here first.

Probably not gonna happen again

Yesterday, I looked out front to find the female red-shouldered hawk (Buteo lineatus) actually sitting on the post lamp that illuminates the front walk (well, when it’s dark, and the light is on – the sun handles it most times.) This sits about six meters from the front door. Naturally, she flew off before I could get the camera and try to decide which window would provide the least distortion, because there was no way that I could get out the door for a shot. During the day, however, I discovered that she switched to perching on the roof peak right near the front door – the front door sits at the bottom edge of this roof, so a straight shot right up underneath her, if I could accomplish it. I tried a few times, but she was never present when I leaned out, or the sound of the door opening spooked her off – never sure which.

This morning, I saw her there again, and tried again.

red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus in profile on roof peak
Same approximate distance as the lamp post – I was leaning out slowly from under the overhang, trying to get past the pine needles and debris that overhung the gutter edges without her noticing, and got extremely lucky. This is at 600mm and cropped only slightly; let’s back off to 160mm:

red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus in profile on roof peak
I have no reasons to complain about these conditions, yet I’m going to, because after chasing so many subjects while aiming too much into the sun, I get a chance where the lighting would be perfect – if the lighting were perfect and not overcast. And it likely won’t happen again.

She heard the shutter and was looking around, but when her peripheral vision should have revealed me, I was holding as still as possible, though after a moment she did look downward in my direction.

red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus discovering photographer from roof peak
Now, she and her… mate? Sibling?… have seen us before and aren’t too wary of us, but this has always been from a distance and not six meters underneath, so when she finally determined that I was right there, she flew off with some soft squeaks, as if chiding herself for being careless. But not before I got my 600mm closeups.

red-shouldered hawk Buteo lineatus in closeup
This is less than half resolution – at full res, you can see the individual dirt grains on her beak, and with a flash unit I’d have been able to map her retinas. She flew off to join her partner in crime on the streelight, and I imagine that she’s going to be more alert in the future, but I’ll keep my eyes open.

A few days back I saw a pair (too far away to be these two) that appeared to be engaged in courting behavior, though I couldn’t watch long enough to be sure of this since we were passing in a car. I tend to think it’s too early for that, but I’m not absolutely sure of that either. So, yeah, I’m watching for nests. Wish me luck.

Chaos, revisited, part two

I said earlier that I had a few new thoughts about chaos theory, and so we delve back into this mess, but at least I’m giving you fair warning.

We refer back to The Forces of Chance article by Brian Klaas, and he uses the example of how the Secretary of State during Word War II had vacationed in Kyoto, Japan many years previously, and his fond memories of that visit prompted him to campaign against it as a target for the atomic bombs, which was ultimately successful. But during the second actual bombing run, the aircrew was thwarted by obscuring clouds over the primary target of Kokuro, forcing them onto their secondary target of Nagasaki; they nearly abandoned that target due to the same circumstances, but a break in the clouds allowed them to sight accurately and release destruction onto that city.

This illustrates two key points where we could say chaos theory reigned. First, the human element of emotional attachment to Kyoto, which kept it from becoming one of the targets despite its strategic value. And second, the vagaries of weather that blotted out sight of Kokuro but also allowed Nagasaki to be targeted. Between them, they dictated the events that led to Japan’s surrender.

Kind of. For instance, targeting Kyoto instead might have made the Japanese surrender before a second bomb was dropped – or it might have tightened their resolve. Playing, “What if?” with events during WWII is a common, but ultimately meaningless, pastime among professional and amateur historians. There are alternatives to anything everywhere that might lead to ‘alternate histories,’ and people are fond of imagining how things might have turned out. In this way, we imagine that events are wildly variable and so deterministic physics is all wet, but it’s not true in any sense that we can actually prove.

To go back to the Secretary of State, it seems likely (in fact, highly probable given all that we know of physics) that his experiences during his trip were what created the emotional resolve to save Kyoto, and this could have happened no other way – at least, not without other input that would have swayed his emotions in a different direction; had he been mugged while there, it could easily have been different. So the past history of one individual can have a stunning effect – but this is true of any circumstances beholden to human vagaries; the attitudes that we all hold are shaped by our past experiences. It is also entirely possible that anyone who knew the Secretary of State fairly well would have predicted themselves what his reaction might be – we do this all the time with people we’re close to. So is this chaos, or simply complication, too many factors to collate and calculate? Is that all that chaos theory highlights?

Not to keep flogging the same points, but we’ll turn back to the weather example again. The problem with the weather is that it takes very little input, very little energy, to affect what direction it might take. And we know this, because all meteorologists provide their predictions with a margin of error; this is not calculating chaos theory into the mix, but the enormities of the data needed to become more accurate, to reduce this margin of error. We often know when the conditions exist for a wildfire, but not where lightning will strike or what idiot will start an improper campfire in the middle of those conditions. The resulting wildfire then introduces more energy into the atmosphere that will behave exactly as physics dictates it would, even when we cannot possibly calculate how much energy is entering and exactly where. Yet when we think about how much this is happening all the time, it becomes rather astounding that the weather reports are anywhere near as accurate as they are. We might expect or hope that they were more accurate, thinking science is failing us if they’re not, but the handle we have on it is actually pretty impressive – and the averaging out of small effects works fairly well. Even when some storm or system starts down a ‘chaotic’ path, the moment we recognize it we’re already refining our predictions.

So there are two main bodies of thoughts that occurred to me. The first is that, is it possible to identify the circumstances that may go ‘non-linear’ (or against expectations)? Are there key areas where a random variable is more likely to push things farther afield than expected? Initially, I was thinking that the lower the energy needed to effect change, the greater the chance of change occurring – not especially deep I know, but it’s more along the lines of, if the ground temperature rises two degrees above expectations or predictions, is this more likely to create rising air that develops into a storm, or a front that will deflect the storm? In other words, are there key areas that we should be watching more closely? Though I can’t say that this isn’t already being done, or at least attempted. And this isn’t just with the weather but say with economics; what stocks are likely to trigger reactions from traders with small variations? For sociology, what observable factors from a culture tend to give indications of impending changes?

Klaas provided the example of the Arab Spring, begun when one merchant reached his breaking point with oppressive government and immolated himself, touching off a backlash of reaction, frustration, and revolution. Though quite frankly, anyone familiar with the cultures involved likely knew they were a powder keg. And so we reach thought number two, which is, how often human emotions are tied into specific examples of chaos theory? In this case, not so much the revolutionaries themselves, but more the government attitudes that, if nothing has happened so far, people are okay with it, and nothing will continue to happen. This type of thinking is enormous within humans, and responsible for countless issues that arise. It’s harder and more expensive to plan for contingencies, so we’ll ignore the possibilities and hope that it works out – and every moment that it does is reinforcement for this behavior. When the breaking point is reached, it’s not that this wasn’t predicted, it’s that such predictions were ignored or misunderstood.

This has happened countless times in this country with hurricanes. There’s a range of predictions, often depicted as a cone representing the possible paths of the hurricane – less defined the further away in the future it is. Most of the time, the path falls within the cone, though less often in the center of the prediction; there is also a range of predictions of wind strength as well, with largely the same results. Yet countless people assume that the ‘worst case’ scenario isn’t going to come to pass, or they’re close enough to the edge of the cone that they won’t feel the effects too strongly, or even that it’s too much of a hassle to vacate the area – in essence, they’re betting against the predictions. And for every hurricane, we hear about the people who lost their bet, many of whom complain that they “didn’t expect this.” While we may feel inclined to blame this on imprecise predictions and the failure of physical science to pin things down precisely, pointing to it as a manifestation of chaos theory, it’s more a manifestation of relying on ‘averages’ and past experience, especially those who heard of the ‘worst case’ scenarios that didn’t come to pass and consider this a failed prediction, attempting to produce their own pattern of expectations.

So once again, the human element is a major factor – and many of those in authority recognize this and become even more adamant that evacuations are mandatory. They know that, “Better safe than sorry,” will too often take a backseat to, “That was a waste of time.”

This is not to say that every place where we might point to a manifestation of chaos theory is due to human foibles and behavior, but we should be paying attention to those areas where it does, and realize that this is more a sociological problem than a mathematical one. And again, even if we have utter faith in the value and strength of chaos theory, it doesn’t permit us to improve things – not until it can predict results more accurately than the meteorologists (or economists, or sociologists, et cetera.)

So where does this leave us? Before this article, I had attempted to understand chaos theory with James Gleick’s book, and found it not just uninformative, but confusing and willingly misrepresenting science and determinism by a wide margin. Klaas’ article was significantly better at presenting the theory as instances where we cannot predict results, but this hardly moves us forward in any way, does it? And in fact, I think it may actually do a disservice in giving a specific and official-sounding name to circumstances where, let’s face it, the primary reason that we cannot predict results is that the data are too voluminous. How, exactly, is that a ‘theory?’ Does it predict where and when the ‘law of averages’ will fail to average out? Does it allow us to know how to control this, or anything, really? To all appearances, when we have any circumstances where we might say, “Crap, that didn’t go as expected,” mathematicians may nod knowingly at each other and say, “Chaos theory.” But what’s the value in that, especially when they cannot let us know ahead of time?

Sorry, I’m just going to stick to, “Too much data needed for accuracy,” and not bother with other names for it.

Just once, part 49

northern green frog Lithobates clamitans melanota basking in wooded area
While adding the image for this post, I searched on “northern” within the image title, and only two came up that were not northern water snakes – this one, and the polar vortex on Saturn (not my shot.) Now, if I search in the tags, I get 14 hits on “northern” – the tags reflect the species name, while the image titles may not, and they’re there only for me to find the images that I want easier. But since this was the only time I’ve seen and photographed a northern green frog (Lithobates clamitans melanota,) the title indicated such.

I’ve seen the green frog parent species countless times, and had a few living for years in the tiny backyard pond. We probably have them here too, but I have yet to confirm this, though I have confirmed the presence of pickerel frogs, or at least a pickerel frog. But this one was found in Ohio, and the markings got my attention because they’re faintly different from the parent species, while later examination of the image showed the ‘vein’ that runs from behind the eye all the way down its back, a trait of the green frog. A quick internet search provided the answer, showing this to be a northern subspecies. We’ll check the difference with the main species, Lithobates clamitans.

green frog Lithobates clamitans resting on pond bank
As you can see, they tend to be a bit more bronze in color and lack the lateral meandering stripe. But it shouldn’t be here since I’ve featured them plenty of times, so ignore this.

Will I get more images of the northern variant? I go into the region that they inhabit from time to time, every couple of years or so, but I’m also not that motivated to chase them as a subject, so if it happens it’ll likely be while I’m in pursuit of something else. Unless, as I’ve said before, someone wants to fund a search for more photos…

That makes two. Or is it three?

I was sorting images a few hours back, which often results in finding a few more pics to post, and indeed did; moreover, it falls in line with the ‘Just Once’ topic, since it was featured earlier this year.

yellow-bellied sapsucker Sphyrapicus varius perched in shadow on tree
That’s a yellow-bellied sapsucker (Sphyrapicus varius,) snagged while out chasing wood ducks the other day, on a tree right alongside the pond – shame it wouldn’t get out in the open. I couldn’t see it well enough to identify it, but recall thinking it needed a closer look while initially reviewing it upon unloading the card, then forgetting about it. When I was out there, I believed it to be a downy woodpecker, so just fired off a couple of frames and ignored it, especially since it wasn’t getting into the light. I can be excused, because even at 600mm, the full frame looked like this:

yellow-bellied sapsucker Sphyrapicus varius in full frame
I heard the pecking, and spotted it as it flew to this perch, but the only way I could determine by naked eye that I was looking at the right bird was the upright, trunk-clinging position.

That makes two of the featured ‘Just Once’ species that I ended up duplicating within a few months of posting – the other was an eastern kingsnake less than a month ago. But I also ruled out another candidate, one of the species from my list, before I had a chance to post it, since I photographed it for the second time earlier this year, after having gone eleven years since I’d first seen it (though only eight from when I actually posted about it; the images had been published at BugGuide.net to identify the species.)

Annnddd in looking at the spreadsheet of candidates, I found another that slipped my mind: this eastern cicada-killer received its second feature this year and dropped off the list. So that’s four. Less than a month to remove another – can it be done?

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